


Her Ladyship

by Claude_Lawless



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Skyrim Romance Mod
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7251901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claude_Lawless/pseuds/Claude_Lawless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After braving the depths of Bleak Falls Barrow, Agluma gra-Mornah had every intention of returning to Whiterun as soon as possible. Unfortunately for her, a tall man and a skittish horse put a dent in that plan.</p><p>My entry into the Skyrim Romance Mod writing competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Ladyship

The afternoon was cold, the road was long, and all of the muscles in Agluma’s body were screaming at her. Her arms and fingers in particular seemed the most furious, but more distance she put between her and Bleak Falls Barrow, the angrier her legs seemed to grow.

Taking a deep breath, she adjusted her grip on the massive slab in her arms. All things considered, it wasn’t the heaviest thing she’d ever had to carry down a mountain – the average elk weighed at least twice as much. The difference was that she’d been able to hack the elk into pieces before starting her trek downwards, and Kizhmit was waiting for her at the bottom with an extra four legs.

But Kizhmit was back in Riverwood, and in its intact state, the slab wouldn’t fit in her backpack. Smashing it to pieces was an enticing idea, but given what she’d seen of Jarl Balgruuf’s court mage, he would not be happy having to glue the rock back together.

She marched across the stone bridge and through the gate. Never had she ever been more thankful that Riverwood was a small village. Kizhmit was tethered only a minute’s walk away. The thought of sweet relief made the pain lessen, and she quickened her pace.

As she passed the inn, she heard a male voice. “Need some help, princess?” it said.

Agluma stopped in shock. Princess? Her? There was no way someone would call an Orc ‘princess,’ even in jest. She looked around. There must be some other woman walking nearby.

She turned her head. Leaning against the doorway of the inn was a broad-shouldered, fair-skinned man with dark hair. His hazel eyes flickered as he watched her.

“Yes, I’m talking to you,” he said. “You look like you could use some help.”

He wasn’t wrong, Agluma admitted to herself. Her arms felt like custard and she wasn’t sure if her fingers were still attached. Had he been any other man, she might have accepted his help, but something in the wolfish way he looked at her got her contrarian hackles up.

“I’ve got it,” she said through clenched teeth. Kizhmit was tethered only a few more meters away. She made it down a mountain, she could handle a dozen more steps.

The man shook his head. “No, I don’t think you do,” he said. “One more minute and that rock is going to pull those arms right out of their sockets.”

Once again, not wrong. Swallowing her pride, she set the stone on the ground. Pain shot through her fingers and up her arms, and she bit back a groan. “Care to lend a hand, then?” she asked, not looking at him.

“No.”

She whipped her head towards him. He hadn’t moved a muscle. “You just offered to help.”

The man shrugged. “All I said was you looked like you needed help. Never said I’d be the one to give it.”

Agluma stared at him, mouth open. She’d met all sorts of folks in her life and more than her fair share of rude ones. But this... she had no words for this. No civil words, anyways.

The man smirked. “Sabre cat got your tongue, ladyship?”

Ladyship. Somehow, that was even more off-putting than princess. She wanted to curse at him, but thought better of it. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind. _The easiest way to annoy someone is to ignore them._

Taking a deep breath, she turned her back on the man and heaved the stone back into her arms. This time, it was Ushoth’s voice that came to her. _Lift with your knees, not your back, damn it,_ the Forge-wife snapped more times than she could count. _Mauloch’s sake, girl, it’s like you’re trying to hurt yourself!_

Even as her arms screamed with pain with each step, she couldn’t help but smile. Many fond memories were made in that forge, even if she did have more than a few scars on her hands to show for it.

Kizhmit was tethered outside the inn, browsing through the grass. She looked up as her owner approached and nickered softly.

Setting the stone on the ground, Agluma stroked the mare’s nose. “Did you miss me?” she asked.

Kizhmit nickered again and bumped her nose against Agluma’s belt. Looking for an apple, knowing her.

“I haven’t got anything for you,” she said. She removed her pack and pulled out several lengths of rope. She wrapped them underneath Kizhmit’s belly and pulled on her bridle. “Lay down, now.”

The dapple grey mare did as she was told. With a painful heave, Agluma pushed the slab onto the horse’s back. Kizhmit huffed in displeasure as she tied it down as best as she could. As crude as the setup was, she could to put up with it for a few hours. It wasn’t far to Whiterun.

When she was satisfied, she motioned for Kizhmit to stand. The horse climbed to her feet with minimal effort.

As she went to reshoulder her backpack, the contents shifted and jabbed her in the back. She sighed. Maybe Belethor would know what to do with the claw she’d found. The man could sell a fur coat to a Khajiit; he probably knew someone who liked ancient Nordic artifacts.

Taking Kizhmit’s reins, she led the horse toward the general store. The mare deserved an apple for the hard work she was about to do.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” she said as she tied the reins to a pole. Kizhmit chuffed in response. “It’ll only be a minute. Do you want to eat or not?”

As Agluma stroked the mare’s neck, she caught sight of the broad-shouldered man on the inn porch. He hadn’t moved from his spot near the door, and he was still staring at her. A chill went down her spine. Bending her knees, she crouched enough to hide behind Kizhmit and out of the man’s sight. She scurried towards the door and opened it, slipping inside as quickly as possible.

The shop was small but cozy, with a fireplace on one wall and well-stocked shelves against another. The man behind the counter watched a younger woman standing defiantly before him. Neither seemed to notice her.

“Well, one of us has to do something!” the woman said.

“I said _no_!” the man snapped. “ _No_ adventures, _no_ theatrics, and _no_ thief chasing!”

The woman wasn’t impressed. “What’re you going to do then, huh?! Let’s hear it!” she demanded as the man turned away.

He slammed a hand against the table. “We are done talking about this—” As he turned back around, he caught sight of Agluma. The hostilities in his demeanor evaporated. “Oh, a customer.”

He cast a glance at the woman, who threw up her hands and walked away. As she passed Agluma, she cast her the exasperated eyeroll that every woman in Tamriel knew. _Men,_ it said.

Agluma nodded in sympathy.

Approaching the desk, the man seemed genuinely remorseful for the outburst. “I don’t know how much of that you overheard,” he said, “but the Riverwood Trader is still open.”

Unsure of what to say, she nodded. “Do you have any apples?” she asked.

He pursed his lips. “Yes, but they’re not exactly fresh. Not really fit for human consumption. Or Orc,” he added quickly.

“It’s for my horse,” she said.

He chuckled. “Should be fine for horses. How many ya want?”

Unshouldering her backpack, she set it on the counter. Some of the bandits in Bleak Falls Barrow had been using some decent weapons, and she’d grabbed a few to sell later. No such thing as too much coin, after all.

She removed an iron dagger, its blade scored and blunted with age. “How much will this get me?”

Picking it up, the man examined the weapon. “Hm... Could probably sell this to Advar for scrap... I can give you three apples.”

Agluma frowned. “Just a minute,” she said.

She started rummaging through the backpack. She had been intending to sell the war axe she’d found to Adrienne in Whiterun, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Unlike Kizhmit, she could afford to skip a meal.

But first, she had to find the damn thing. She shifted through the items in her backpack, removing the biggest ones for room. She set her boots on the floor; the adventurer’s journal she’d found in the smoldering remains of Helgen and the thief’s journal from the barrow she set on the counter.

Touching the claw, she paused. Did she really want to take out a solid hunk of gold in front of these people? They seemed nice enough, but even the most docile persons were known to go mad with greed every once in a while.

A silver glint caught her eye. Of course the axe was at the bottom of the bag, meaning she’d have to remove the claw anyways to get at it. She sighed through her nose. If she could do it fast enough...

Taking the claw in one hand and the axe handle in the other, she lifted the former just enough for her to pull the latter out from under it. The gold was only visible for a second, but it was still long enough for it to be seen.

“Lucan!” the woman gasped. “Look!”

Agluma quickly shoved it back into the backpack, but he’d seen it as well. He stuck his hand into the bag and pulled the claw out. His eyes went wide as he examined it.

“By the gods...” he breathed. Shock quickly turned to glee. “She found it! Camilla, she found it!”

“Let me see, let me see!” The woman pushed Agluma out of the way. The man showed her the claw, and her face lit up. “It really is!”

Agluma frowned as the man and woman laughed in relief. Was she missing something?

Seeing the confusion on her face, the woman turned to her. “This claw was stolen from our shop a few days ago,” she said. “We thought it was gone forever.”

“Thank you,” the man said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. I can’t ever hope to— oh!” Quick as a flash of lightning, he pulled a small sack from beneath the counter. “Take the apples. All of them.”

She opened her mouth to thank him, but the woman cut in. “Lucan, you can’t just give her old fruit.” She scurried behind the counter and pulled a handful of coins from a shelf underneath. “It’s not much, but take it.”

“Camilla—” The man began to protest, but a look from the woman made him rethink his stance. “Alright. It’s the least we can do.”

Agluma was too surprised to even smile. All she could do was stare as they grinned at her. Skyrim’s human inhabitants weren’t known for their friendliness towards Orcs. Rarely was she ever shown gratitude; she usually got a coin purse tossed her way without a second glance.

Taking the sack of apples and the pile of coins, she fumbled for words. “I...It was...” Her face grew warm, and she swallowed hard. “Forget about it,” she said as she dropped the coins into her pouch. “I-It was nothing. Anyone would have done it.”

 “‘Forget about it?!’” The man barked a laugh. “Listen, lady, that claw is easily the most valuable thing we own. You stopped my sister from going after it herself and getting herself killed. That alone means the world to us.”

He reached over the counter and took her hand. Agluma tensed, expecting a pull, but he only pumped it up and down. A handshake. It was only a handshake.

Finally, she allowed herself a smile. She squeezed his hand tightly. “You’re welcome,” she began.

She never finished. A loud thud and a whinny a came from outside, followed by a clipped curse. Her eyes widened. _Kizhmit._

Dropping the man’s hand, she hurried towards the door. She prayed to any deity that would listen that her horse was unhurt. She threw the door open.

Kizhmit was still tied to the pole, unhurt but startled. The slab lay on the ground, along with the broad-shouldered man who had been watching her. He was on his back, clutching his stomach and uttering incomprehensible curses.

“Damned horse,” he grumbled.

Behind her, the store owner looked over her shoulder. “What happened?” he asked.

Agluma knew exactly what happened. “She kicked him,” she said, fighting a smile.

The man winced. “Ouch,” he said. “I’ve got a few health potions. I’ll be right back.” He ducked back into his shop.

She turned her attention to the slab. Lifting it off the ground, it was clear that it would take more than a fall from a horse to even chip the corners.

Beside her, the man groaned. “Damned horse,” he growled. “Try to do something nice...”

He tried to sit up, but Agluma set her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down. “Don’t move.”

To her bemusement, he struggled against her. “Don’t tell me what to do!” he barked. He sat up again, only to double over, clutching his abdomen. “Damn it!”

“Where’d she kick you?” Agluma asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?!” he spat.

She rolled her eyes. _The fool who doesn’t want help doesn’t receive help._ Another one of Ushoth’s tough love maxims. Or was it Girnah’s?

The door opened, and the man returned with a bottle of red liquid in his hand. He hurried towards the man and crouched beside him. “Here,” he said, pulling the stopper from the bottle. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

For a moment, the man on the ground looked defiant. Agluma gently touched his abdomen, making him grunt in pain. He took the potion from the man and drank it, but not before he shot her a dirty glare.

The shopkeeper watched as he finished. Setting the bottle aside, he and Agluma helped the man to his feet. “I’ll bring him to the inn,” he said. “You calm that horse down.”

She watched as he half-dragged the injured man toward the inn. When they were safely inside, Agluma approached Kizhmit, her hands in front of her.

“Easy, girl,” she said. “It’s alright, Kizzy. Nothing’s wrong.” Kizhmit whinnied again. Slowly, Agluma reached into the sack and pulled out an apple. It was small, green, and spotted. “I’ve got this for you.”

Seeing her favorite treat, Kizhmit immediately calmed. She nuzzled Agluma’s hand and snapped the fruit right up, taking half of it in one bite. Agluma stroked her nose as she ate, giving her a second apple for good measure. It wasn’t like anyone else would be eating them.

After a few minutes, when she was sure she was calm, Agluma picked up the slab. Not wanting to retie it to Kizhmit so soon after being spooked, she asked the woman permission to leave it in the shop for a while. She said yes.

Untying the horse, she led her towards the inn. The shopkeeper almost passed her when she stopped him. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a few coins. “For the potion,” she said.

The man shook his head and opened his palm, revealing a small stack of septims. “Bishop already paid for it,” he said. “Grumpy as he is, he’s still a man of his word. He wants to talk to you, too.”

Agluma’s stomach dropped. What could he possibly want with her?

Tying Kizhmit to the railing – and leaving her a third apple – Agluma entered the inn. The broad-shouldered man sat by the fire, face scrunched into a scowl. He looked up as she walked in, his reflection of the fire in his eyes setting them ablaze.

“I wanna talk to you,” he said.

Agluma took a deep breath as she approached him. “About?”

“About your stupid horse, what else?” He crossed his arms. “The damn thing kicked me and now I’m out ten septims.” He poked her shoulder. “You owe me, ladyship

There it was again. Ladyship. “I owe you nothing,” she said. “I didn’t ask you to scare Kizhmit. That was your own fault.”

He barked a laugh. “I only went over there because that slab you tied to her was about to fall and take the horse with it. I went over there to tighten the ropes, but it slipped from my fingers. It hit the ground, the horse bucked, and next thing I know, I’m flat on my back.”

Agluma grit her teeth. Of course it was her fault. It was always her fault. “I apologize for my inadequate rope-tying skills,” she said stiffly. “I’ll compensate you for the potion.” She reached for her purse, but he shook his head.

“I don’t want your money, princess,” he said. “A band of trappers captured my wolf Karnwyr about a week ago. I’d go after them myself, but there are a lot of them and I’m not stupid. Your pet hurt me, so now you help me get back mine.”

Kizhmit wasn’t a _pet_ , she wanted to say. She thought better of it. “And if I say no?”

Bishop smirked. He thumbed the handle of the knife sheathed at his belt. “Then I invoke Blood Price.”

Agluma felt the color drain from her face. How in Oblivion did he know about that? Could a Nord invoke Blood Price? He wasn’t Blood-Kin to a stronghold, was he?

The scar in the crook of her elbow itched. She resisted the urge to scratch it. “Fine,” she growled.

The smirk grew into a grin. “Then let’s get going.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Megan for proofreading and critique.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
